


Rewrite This Story

by srmiller



Series: I Will Give This Series a Better Name Later [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Pining, because bellamy's like that, bellamy the bartender, big bro/little sister feels, clarke the muscian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller
Summary: Bellamy Blake is getting by, and that's pretty much what he's expecting for the rest of his life.That is until a woman, blonde and beautiful, walks into the alley behind the bar where he works and asks if she can get a gig.Suddenly his life is starting to go down a different path than one he'd always seen himself on. Maybe, if he could get his head out of his ass and make a move, he wouldn't spend it alone.





	1. Chapter 1

“That’s a bad habit, Bell.”

Bellamy looked up from lighting his cigarette to see Octavia walking up the sidewalk with her backpack hanging from one shoulder, long hair pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head.

With her pretty makeup and crop top it was becoming increasingly real to him she was grown up. She’d graduate high school in a month, then they’d have a few months of summer before she packed up and left for college where she would study and graduate and probably take over the world.

And he’d still be trying to quit smoking.

“Sorry, O.” He put out the cigarette on the stoop he was sitting on and picked up his soda. Leaning back, he rested his elbows on the steps behind him while Octavia dropped her bag and sat next him.

“I think I should just skip the rest of my classes,” she announced with such casualness he’d bet every dollar in his wallet she’d practiced just the right tone the entire walk home from school.

“Like hell,” he argued. “You still have finals.”

“I’m already accepted into school,” she reminded him.

“And they can unaccept you just as easily,” he reminded her as a he took another long drink and vaguely missed the dirty cigarette at his feet. “Party is planned for the day after your graduation.”

“Here?”

“Half the neighborhood’s going to show up anyway so we might as well make it convenient for everyone.”

She grinned, bright and a little smug. “It’s not my fault I’m so popular.”

Bellamy snorted and absently studied the building across the street. He’d spent an entire lifetime on this stoop, on this street, staring at the apartment building across the asphalt. There was a sharp pang of pride and jealousy at knowing that for Octavia this would someday be a memory she told friends, and there would be weeks and months where she wouldn’t see that one streetlight which always blinked as if having a seizure.

This would be a place she came back to, instead of a place she lived.

“Well, it certainly isn’t mine. Have you decided what you’re going to major in yet?”

“No,” she admitted but sounded completely unconcerned about what would, inevitably, direct and guide the rest of her life. “I’ll figure it out. I’ve got time. Shouldn’t you be heading to work?”

He sighed because he’d been putting it off. Most days he didn’t mind going to work, hell he even enjoyed it some of the time, but he didn’t have a good feeling about tonight. Tonight was going to suck. “Yeah, I’m going to head out soon I just wanted to make sure you got home okay first.”

“God, you’re such a worrier.”

Bellamy gave her a look out of the corner of his eyes. “That’s literally my job as your guardian.”

“I’m eighteen,” she pointed out. “You’re not my guardian anymore.”

“I could pull the ‘as long as you’re living in my house and eating my food’ line but I don’t have time for an argument.” He unbent from the stoop and tucked his phone into his front pocket. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“No, since apparently I have to take my finals. Zoe will probably come over, hang out.”

Zoe was his sister’s closest friend who had graduated a year earlier and was working at a local gym while attending community college. “Okay. Monty’s home all night, so knock on his door if you need anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Bellamy pressed a kiss to her forehead and headed down the street towards the bar he worked at, absently patting his back pocket to make sure his cigarettes were there.

He’d started smoking as a stupid act of rebellion at 13, a failed attempt to get his mother’s attention which had quickly turned into a fifteen-year-old on-again, off-again habit but at least he’d cut down to only one or two a day.

Eventually he’d quit, he needed to be around for Octavia and lung cancer would only get in the way of that, but tomorrow was always a good time to quit.

When Bellamy walked into the bar a little before 6:30 there were already a handful of people at the bar and more than a dozen at the tables and booths. Things always started hopping at the bar around six so it wasn’t a surprise to see so many people already drinking.

Some of them were regulars, but more often than not the bar got people getting off work and destressing before heading home, people having affairs who told their spouse they were working late and instead were groping someone else in a back booth. There was at least one of those if Bellamy’s instinct and experience were anything to go by.

“Hey, Murphy.”

The slightly greasy and more-or-less okay bartender waved a hand to acknowledge he heard the greeting as he poured a tired looking businessman a drink.

Heading into the back office behind the bar Bellamy dropped his wallet and jacket but kept his phone in his pocket just in case Octavia needed him for something. There was a stack of paperwork which needed to get done. Schedules to write, orders to be placed, menus to look over now that seasons where getting ready to change.

All of it stuff he absolutely did not want to have to deal with tonight.

“How’s it been going?” Bellamy asked as he surveyed the bar’s inventory to see if anything needed to be stocked. Maya greeted him with a smile as she dropped off an order and grabbed a plate of food to take to a table.

“A little busy,” Murphy admitted as he made drinks with the kind of absentmindedness which came from years of working behind a bar. “I think the heat is making people thirsty.”

“Good, with O’s graduation party coming up I’ll take all the tips I can get.” Bellamy tried to remember who was scheduled to work today, but his brain was too tired. “Who is in the back?”

“Atom’s got the grill and Fox is on dish duty.”

“Harper’s not here yet?”

“No, she texted and said the train was broken but she’d get here ASAP.”

Bellamy nodded and clocked in at the register. He was technically on salary and didn’t have to, but it helped to make sure he didn’t overwork. If he was there more than fifty hours a week it meant he was neglecting his duties as Octavia’s guardian, and more importantly as her brother. “How’s Emori doing?”

It was the easiest way to get Murphy to let down his hard-knock-life, I’m-tougher-than-you mask because any mention of his expecting wife automatically made him the happiest person in existence which, while unnerving, was always a kick to see.

“She’s awesome, we’re currently not talking because we can’t decide on names.”

Bellamy couldn’t help but smile as he looked over the drinkers at the bar to make sure no one needed a refill. “Not talking to your wife is a good thing?”

Murphy shrugged as he took Bellamy’s spot to clock out. “It’s nice to have someone you can be pissed at and still know they’re going to be home at the end of the day.”

Bellamy swallowed because, yeah he kind of had that with Octavia but he wanted some version of what Murphy had with Emori. Someone to be on your side even when you didn’t agree.

But it was hard to meet someone when you made your living behind a bar. The people who slipped him their numbers with credit card slips weren’t exactly looking for a relationship, and those that were quickly found out dating a bartender sounded like more fun than it actually was.

It was hard to date when you worked nights, slept days and took care of your sister in between.

“What name do you want?”

“Gerard.”

“Yeah, I’d be pissed at you too.”

“Fuck you,” Murphy laughed and went into the office to grab his jacket and when he came back out he was reading something on his phone. “The thing about not talking to your wife is she can still text you demands for ice cream I can only find at one store which is the fuck out of my way.”

“But you can’t complain because she’s carrying a human being.”

“Exactly. I’ll see you tomorrow, man.”

Bellamy waved as Murphy walked out of the bar and managed to keep the customers’ drinks filled alone but he was more than grateful when Harper came into the bar shortly before seven.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she apologized as she practically jogged through the bar with the largest bag he’d ever seen over her shoulder.

“Did you steal a baby?”

She stopped moving so suddenly she almost fell over. “Huh?”

He almost laughed at the look of confusion on her face. “What’s in the bag, Harper?”

She looked down as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. “Oh! This, yeah. Not a baby.” Harper moved around the bar and stepped close enough to Bellamy he thought she was going to reveal some wild or possibly illegal secret.

“I signed up for some classes at the community college. These are my books.”

Bellamy had learned long ago, the hardest thing in the world was to be genuinely happy for someone while being intensely envious of them. Opposing emotions of joy and ‘why not me’ warred with each other as she looked up at him hesitantly.

With Octavia going off to college, Murphy happily expecting his first kid with the love of his life, and now Harper pursuing something which seemed to make her happy he came to the conclusion this was just going to be his state of being for a while.

“That’s amazing, Harper. I had no idea you were planning on going to school.”

She laughed nervously and readjusted the bag on her shoulder as she clocked in. “Yeah, me neither. But I was on the bus a few weeks back and saw this ad for the school and it just…it sounds weird, but it just felt right. So I put in the application and got accepted so then there was the chaos of applying for FAFSA and then picking classes and I didn’t want to say anything because I was worried I would jinx it.”

“Congratulations, Harper, I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

“What are you going for?” he asked, glancing again at the customers.

“Not sure yet,” she admitted. “But I’m leaning towards business, or law. Not like a lawyer or anything, but paralegal? They make decent money and there’s not as much schooling.”

Bellamy nodded, ignoring the fact that if he went to college he knew exactly what he’d go for and how he’d use it. “I think you’d be terrifying as a lawyer, and just think of all the repeat business you’d get from all of your friends getting in fights.”

Harper laughed. “I don’t know. I’d have to go to school for a long time.”

“If you love it, it would be worth it,” he reminded her. “After you drop your stuff, grab some paper from the printer and write down your class schedule.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

When she came back she handed him the paper before pulling her hair up in a ponytail. She made the rounds effortlessly and when he was certain things were calm enough Harper could handle them on her own before the late shift arrived he settled himself behind the desk in the office and reworked the schedule for the next month.

Murphy could work up until Emori had the baby, but he’d already said he wanted a month off to be home afterwards so everyone would be on call to fill in shifts up until that point. Add in Harper’s new schedule it was going to be a busy and chaotic month.

He had a headache just thinking about it, but hell, this what he got paid the medium sized dollars for.

####################

The headache had quickly turned into a migraine throughout the rest of the night. Some asshole had latched onto Harper and wouldn’t stop hitting on her, making her uncomfortable to the point she was nearly in tears.

Bellamy tried not to be mad she didn’t tell him about the customer sooner, and when the guy refused to leave Bellamy had been forced to call the cops to escort him out of the bar. His picture was put in the office and he’d insisted Harper take the rest of the night off, knowing she would be too on edge the rest of the night to be of any use.

Which left him at the bar by himself, and while Monroe tried to keep up with the tables as they filled up he knew it was only a matter of time before something slipped through the cracks and a customer got pissed.

Desperate for a reprieve Bellamy put Maya on the bar and pushed Fox out to the front so he could have two fucking minutes of silence. He went to his office and checked in with Octavia before stepping outside into the back alley.

The cool air was a blessing on his overheated face and he took three deep breaths before he pulled out his pack of cigarettes, and was in the process of putting one between his lips when he heard a voice come from a few feet away.

“That shit will kill you.”

Bellamy looked up, lighter still burning but the cigarette unlit. “So I’ve been told.”

“Are you the guy to talk to about getting a set? I asked inside and the girl at the bar said you’d be back here.”

Figuring the cigarette was already in his hand, he lit the end and took a deep drag. She was pretty enough, about the same height as he was, her long blonde hair was pink at the tips and the jacket she wore looked more expensive than everything in his closet. “Yeah, you in a band or solo?”

“It’s just me.” She looked a little nervous and he wasn’t sure if it was because she hadn’t done this kind of thing before or if it was meeting a strange guy in a backstreet.

“Not the best idea, as ideas go, to prowl around bars and talking to strange men in dark alleys.”

Bellamy heard her laugh softly as she shrugged a single shoulder. “I’ve got a Taser.”

He nodded and pushed off the wall he’d be leaning against. “Good. Do you have something I can listen to?”

“Yeah,” she reached into the back pocket of her jeans and held out a small USB. “My info is on there too.”

He took the small black rectangle and pushed it into his front pocket. “Have you gotten a drink inside?”

She pushed her hair back. “No. I thought about it but, uh, the bartender looked a little overwhelmed.”

“Fucking shit,” he muttered, putting out his cigarette on the wall and dropping it into the coffee can he kept at the backdoor for butts. “Come on, I’ll buy you a round.”

He pulled open the back door and held it, waiting for her to pass through before he shut the door and made sure it was latched before following her.

When they appeared at the bar Bellamy saw there was somehow twice as many people now than there had been less than ten minutes ago. What the hell were all these people doing, drinking on a Tuesday?

“Not to be presumptive or anything, but I can help.”

Bellamy looked at her, “What?”

“I’ve never professionally bartended,” she admitted. “But I can mix whiskey with coke and take orders.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth,” he accepted, not caring if she could hear the relief in his voice. “Fox, head into the back, Maya go back to the tables.”

He stopped and studied her. “I don’t know you’re name.”

“Clarke.”

“I’m Bellamy,” he introduced with a wave of his hand. “Liquor is alphabetical by type. Write down the orders and I’ll ring them up. You can have all the tips.”

They ended up working well together. Bellamy would ring up the orders she gave him and whenever she got an order for a drink she didn’t know how to make she’d pass by him, grab a rag or a glass, and ask him for the ingredients before heading back to the customer with his instructions.

“The cigarette didn’t help?” she asked when they were both pulling beers.

“Huh?” he asked, not sure he heard him right.

“With the headache,” she clarified as she checked to see if the glass was full. “Did it help?”

“Oh. No.”

“Try caffeine,” she suggested as she passed him to head to the guest waiting for his drink. “It might help.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Fifteen minutes later he caught himself rubbing his temples while a debit card was being charged, he hadn’t gotten a chance to pour himself anything because there were too many people and it was just easier to tell himself he’d get to it when the crowds died down.

“Are you a martyr or what?”

Bellamy glanced down at Clarke who had sidled up next to him without his noticing. At some point she’d pulled her pair back in ponytail so the tips just brushed her shoulder and it made her look younger. “Or what?”

She smiled, almost fondly, and held out a glass which was clearly filled with a dark soda. “Drink half of it now.”

“Why does that sound like doctor’s orders?” he asked before he dutifully started drinking the caffeine laced sugar.

She shrugged, “Probably because I was two years from being doctor.” Then, as if that was a totally normal sentence, she walked back to the bar and smiled at a group of girls who had come in a few minutes before.

Two hours later the crowds had died down and Clarke was helping him sort through the bottles to figure out what needed to be replenished.

“Was that doctor crack serious?”

Clarke looked up, she was hunched down looking at the cheap liquor, “What crack?”

“About being two years from being a doctor.”

“Oh, yeah. I was in my residency and I quit to play music full time.”

“Are you stupid?”

The look she gave him was dark and he would have taken a step back if he wasn’t so used to standing up against Octavia’s anger. “Excuse me?”

It was amazing she managed to be intimidating while basically sitting on the floor. “You gave up a career in medicine where you’d basically be set for life to live the life of a starving artist?”

She stood up, nearly as tall as he was, and seemed to have no problem getting into his personal space. He thought she was going to yell at him, she certainly like she was spoiling for a fight but at the last minute she took a step back.

“You’d get along with my mother.”

He had no context for the statement, but he was pretty sure he had never been as efficiently insulted. She didn’t leave and was almost frustratingly polite as they closed so by the end of the night Bellamy thought a three year nap in a very dark, very quiet place was the only thing which would keep him alive.

Atom walked out of the kitchen and the look on Bellamy’s face must have been tragic because the younger man grimaced. “Go home man, Monroe and I got this.”’

Bellamy looked up at his waitress who nodded. “We got this.”

“Thanks, guys.” Bellamy moved behind the counter, grabbed an envelope and headed to Clarke who was standing near the door putting her coat on. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You-“

“Just do it,” Maya called from the tables. “He’ll just start giving you statistics about people getting attacked within a block of their homes or job.”

Bellamy glared at Maya who was innocently grinning at him before turning to Clarke. “Please.”

She seemed to be debating with herself before finally nodding. “Fine.”

Unlocking the door he let Clarke exit first, then shut the door behind them both before locking it up. “Which way?”

Clarke gestured down the street to the left and he fell into step beside her as she led the way. “I’m sorry for the ‘are you stupid’ comment.”

He was pretty sure he heard her snort, or maybe scoff, but he wasn’t quite brave enough to look at her to check. “It takes you two hours to apologize?”

“I still think you’re an idiot for walking away from a job like that, but I don’t know the why behind it so it was rude of me to assume. I just… my sister and I scrape by. We’re doing better right now than we ever were, which isn’t saying much, and if I had a chance to be a doctor? To make that kind money so no matter what my sister needed I could be there for her? It seems stupid to walk away from that.”

When she didn’t immediately reply, or flip him off, he looked at her to see her chewing on her lip. After another second or two she let out a heavy sigh. “A few years back I was killing myself trying to be a doctor. One day I was trying to find something in my closet and moved my guitar and when I picked it up I realized it had been months since I’d touched it, or done anything creative. I had just turned 21 and got the insurance money from my dad’s death so I thought ‘I can always come back to medicine, but if I stay away from music I might not find it again.’ So, I went looking for the music.”

She stopped walking by a car years newer than anything he’d ever be able to own, but there was a dent in the door she hadn’t fixed. “But I get it, from your side, I walked away from a sure thing for a maybe.”

He hadn’t expected her to explain herself, she could have told him to fuck off, and she’d have been right to do so, but he appreciated she took the time to tell him. To be honest with him. “So, we’re good?”

“We’re good.”

He wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth, but he was willing to go with it. “Thanks again, for tonight. I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”

“You’d have managed,” she answered for him, far more confidently than he would have. “But I’m glad I was able to help.”

He held out the envelope. “Here’s the tips, by the way.”

“I feel bad taking all of them,” she told him as she looked at his hand. “You were there too.”

“I can’t pay you,” he reminded her. “You don’t have a liquor license and I don’t have your social security number so this is me paying what you deserve.”

She hesitated for another second before taking the envelope and sticking it into her jacket. “Thank you.”

Bellamy rested his hand against his front pocket to make sure the USB was still there. “I’ll take a listen to your stuff in the morning and give you a call.”

“Thanks.”

It was awkward for a moment, and Bellamy had the absurd feeling he’d walked her to her car after a date. Putting physical distance between them in order to stop the feeling, Bellamy stepped back. “Drive safe, Clarke.”

“Night,” she murmured as she slid into the driver’s seat of her car.

Bellamy watched her drive away and wondered why his world felt a little less steady than it had just a few hours before.


	2. Chapter 2

The next afternoon Bellamy was finishing getting Octavia’s dinner ready when he heard the front door close and the click of the lock falling into place. It was only a few seconds later Octavia walked into the kitchen with her bag still hanging over her shoulder. “What are you listening to?”

He’d listened to Clarke’s music pretty much as soon as he’d woken up, and since he usually listened to music while he made dinner he’d decided to play it again because as much as the music was good, he liked it. “This woman came by the bar last night wanting a gig, she gave me some of her music to listen to.”

Octavia dropped the bag on the floor with a thump as she slid onto the breakfast stool. He watched as she titled her head, then moved it slightly to the rhythm of the song.

“What do you think?” he asked after a handful of seconds.

“I like it, but it’s a little moody.”

He’d thought the same too after he’d listened to the first few songs. “She’s got some originals which aren’t as bad, plus she included covers of more upbeat stuff.”

“So, you’re going to give her a spot?”

“Yeah, I’m going to call her before I head over to the bar.” Instead of putting the casserole into the oven he put aluminum foil over the dish and put it in the fridge so his sister could heat it up when she got hungry. “Is Zoe coming over?”

“She’s got a date but she’ll probably come over after. She’s not looking forward to it, but she thinks she needs to give everyone a chance before rejecting them.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Right? She’s a better woman than me.” There was a heavy pause which made Bellamy’s albeit rocky parental senses stand on end. When he looked at his sister she wore an expression which seemed almost nervous.

“Something up, O?”

She didn’t look at him when she answered, instead stared at her fidgety fingers. “You have Sunday off, right?”

He always had Sunday off. “Yeah.”

“Well, I was just thinking... What would you think about doing something?”

Okay, this was definitely something serious, she was never this vague about something trivial. “Something like what?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a shrug, glancing up at him briefly before looking down again. “It just kind of seems with my finals and you taking on extra shifts at the bar I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Bellamy paused and mentally cursed himself. All he’d been thinking about was paying bills and getting things done, he hadn’t thought about Octavia. He stopped what he was doing and moved around the breakfast counter to look at her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault-“

“It is,” he corrected softly. “And I’m sorry. I do have Sunday off and we’ll do something. I don’t know what yet, but I’ll think of something cool, I promise.”

She stood up, too tall by half and gave him a quick, almost embarrassed hug. “Thanks, Bell. I’m going to finish my homework.”

Bellamy nodded and watched her head back to her room, a wave of affection and sorrow nearly knocking him over. He loved her, he loved the person he could see her becoming and at the same time it was a bitter truth to know he had raised her well enough to let her go. To let her go out into a big and hard world without him.

Shaking off the mood he reached for his phone and after glancing at the info on his computer dialed the number of the singer who had made a distinct impression on him.

The phone only rang twice before it was picked up with a distracted greeting. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Bellamy Blake. From the bar?”

“Oh! Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to call and tell you I liked your stuff and if you’re still looking for a place to play I can give you an hour on Thursday night.”

“I’ll take it.”

He paused. “I didn’t tell you what time or if we’re going to pay you.”

“It could be at noon and I wouldn’t care,” she informed and she sounded sincere enough he believed her. “And I assume I at least get a meal and some drinks.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty standard though. We’ll start with that and if you can draw a crowd we’ll talk about payment.”

“That’s fair. What time should I be there?”

“You’ll go on at eight so come by before that to setup. I’ll be there so you can find me if you have any questions. And, uh, thanks for filling in like you did last night. You didn’t have to do that and it was a huge help.”

“No problem, it was fun.”

“You obviously need to get out more.”

“You’re not wrong,” she quipped back wryly. “But if you never need a hand, feel free to call me. I could use the extra money.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ve got a bartender whose wife is expecting, she’s going to deliver any day now, and it would be easier on everyone if I had someone to cover him instead of forcing everyone to work doubles or only have one night off a week.”

“I can do that,” she assured him. “You’ve got my number so just tell me when you want me.”

Bellamy closed his eyes and winced. He doubted she’d intended the double entendre, but he’d heard ‘tell me where you want me’ and his brain had answered ‘my bed’ without thinking about it.

Thank the gods he hadn’t said it out loud.

“Actually, are you available tonight by any chance? I can train you on our system in a less chaotic environment and take care of the paperwork.”

“Yeah, I can do that. What time?”

“Six,” he glanced at the clock. “Or at least that’s when I start my shift. You can show up any time after that.”

“I can do six. Is there a dress code?”

“Nothing which can get you arrested,” Bellamy answered dryly.

She laughed, “There’s a story there.”

“There is,” he promised. “I’ll see you tonight, Clarke.”

“See you tonight, Bellamy.” There was a pause before he heard her voice again, sincere and hesitant. “And thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Bellamy was ten minutes early to his shift, but Clarke was already sitting at the bar, her hand flying across the notebook she was writing in.

She looked fierce and determined and lost in her own headspace so he walked past her and dropped his stuff in the office and came around the bar to clock in.

“How long as she been here?”

“Ten minutes, she said you hired her?”

Bellamy understood Murphy’s wary, unenthusiastic tone. They ran on a skeleton crew which meant everyone got all the hours they needed. If he hired someone else, it was not surprising people might be worried they’d lose badly needed hours.

“Yeah, she’s going to work your shifts while you’re on paternity leave.”

“Oh,” Murphy’s entire posture relaxed. “That’s cool.”

“She’s also going to sing here once a week,” Bellamy explained as he glanced at Clarke who apparently still had no idea he was there. “Maybe more if she can draw in a crowd.”

“She’s that good?”

“I think so,” he shrugged. “Are you and Em still not talking?”

Murphy pocketed his tips from his shift and shook his head, almost smiling. “Nah, she came up with a name and it doesn’t suck so we’re talking again.”

“What’s the name?”

“Val.”

“Val Murphy,” Bellamy tested the name out. “Sounds good.”

Bellamy grabbed an empty bottle of gin and nudged the vodka to see how empty it was and deciding it would last the hour left it, but he could feel Murphy’s gaze steady on him.

“What?” he snapped.

“Tell me, you know you’re dying to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bellamy lied but Murphy continued to stare, hip resting against the low sink. “It’s French,” he bit out. “And means strength, or power. Your last name is Gaelic and means warrior so you basically named your son Strong Warrior.”

“That’s fucking badass,” Murphy ginned. “Don’t you feel better now?”

“Fuck off, Murphy.”

Still laughing, Murphy clocked out and grab his jacket from the back. “I’ll see you later, Blake.”

Bellamy waved a hand, filled a glass with water and set it down beside Clarke, “In case you come up for air.”

She started at the clink of the glass next to her, and blinked up at him. “Huh? Oh! Shit,” she looked down at her phone and saw the time. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how-“

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “You’re doing me a favor anyway, so no worries. Are you writing something?”

“Song, yeah.” She closed her notebook with a kind of finality which suggested he not ask to read it, which sucked because he was curious, but he could catch a hint when it was thrown at his face. “Still a work in progress.”

“Cool,” he stepped back. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Clarke nodded as she slid her notebook into her bag, then slipped off the barstool and followed him to the back. “You can leave your stuff in the office,” he told her, opening the door. “I’m mostly the only one who uses it, and the only entrance is this door so you don’t have to worry about anyone stealing your stuff.”

She nodded and hung her bag on one of the hooks, her jacket on top.

“We’ll get your log in stuff set up by the next time you work, but until then you’ll use mine.”

He grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and scribbled his code and password before handing it to her.

“Welcome to the Dropship.”

 

The night was calm, normal for a Wednesday night, and thankfully Clarke was a quick study. She didn't need to be told more than once how to use anything, but she did take mixed drinks a little too seriously. When he'd pointed out she didn't have to measure everything she'd looked nervous for the first time. "I spent most of my time in college doing one kind of science or another, and even if I hadn't, 'whatever feels right' is so against my personality I might physically break out in a rash if I try."

Bellamy had laughed, "You're just going to create more problems for yourself being that exact. If you get behind on drinks, you'll never catch up, and then you're going to be stressed and that's not fun for anyone."

She'd studied him carefully before looking at the bar like it posed some kind of threat to her. "I make no promises, but I'll try."

"Thanks."

One of things Bellamy had leaned over his years working one job or another was that, inevitably, things got personal. He couldn't list all the intimate details he'd learned about his co-workers over the years. There was no helping it at three am when there's nothing to do but talk and mop the floors. Bellamy knew about Atom's dyslexia, and how hard school had been for him, but in the kitchen there were so few words it was like a sanctuary for the cook; Harper talked about how lonely she'd been growing up, and how she was terrified she'd gotten so used to it, she'd never be able to settle down with someone. Bellamy knew birthdays, anniversaries, important deaths of people whose names he could no longer remember.

Clarke was different.

Almost as if she was aware how vulnerable pre-dawn conversation could make a person, she kept things light and kept her distance. She talked about books from the other side of the room, and movies with the bar separating them, but the conversation always came back to music and when she did her face lit up, and those blue eyes sparked with energy he could almost touch. Her music tastes were more varied than his, and every other song she mentioned he'd never heard of.

"I'm making you a playlist," she announced as he began turning off lights.

"You know, back in the day, making a mixtape for someone meant you were sweet on them."

"Sweet on them?" she asked, her voice was almost amused but as he got closer to where she stood by the door he saw there was a slight blush on her cheeks. "Mixtapes? How old are you exactly?"

"I'm an immortal demi-god," he told her dryly. "So I'm pretty old."

She nodded as if that made perfect sense, a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth. "Son of the god of wine?" she asked as she stepped outside and waited for him to lock the door behind them. "That's a thing, right? God of drinking has a hookup with a mortal, creates beautiful demi-god who honors his father by pouring drinks for lonely souls for the rest of his life."

His steps faltered at 'beautiful' but he wasn't about to point it out. "Look at that, you've got yourself another song."

Clarke looked surprised, then dug out the notebook from her purse. He'd give a month's worth of rent for the chance to read what was inside. "You know what, that would be interesting challenge. Writing story songs are hard," she explained as she wrote down a few lines of...something. There was no way he could peak over her shoulder without being obvious.

"And demi-god pouring drinks for the lost and lonely is right up your alley."

She looked up at him, brows furrowed in an unspoken question.

"You've got a..." he cut himself off as he tried to think of the right word which wouldn't sound rude. "You know what, never mind."

Clarke rolled her eyes but didn't push him as she stopped at her car. "Well, I think we can both agree tonight went better than yesterday.”

Bellamy laughed, catching her look. “Better day in general. Sorry again, for being an ass.”

“I just like to poke bruises,” Clarke smiled. She could have left a few hours ago, but no matter how many times he checked in with her she said she wanted to stay. It was almost five am, and despite the fact she should be ready to pass out, she looked wide awake.

He was exhausted looking at her.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you dropped out of doctor school.”

She laughed, and adjusted the bag on her shoulder before digging her keys of out a side pocket. “Are you walking?”

“Yeah, I live a few blocks that way,” he pointed with his thumb down the street.

“My car is parked around the corner, if you want a ride?”

“I don’t want to put you out.”

“It doesn’t, come on.”

Once inside her car she started the engine and immediately reached for the volume knob. “Sorry, I listen to music pretty loud. You don’t mind if it just stays on?”

“Your car, your rules." He settled into the seat, belting himself in, and ventured a question he hadn't been sure she'd answer while they were cleaning up. "Can I ask how long you’ve been playing? When I was listening to your stuff, it’s not technical, but it’s got experience behind it.”

“You know a lot about music?”

“A friend of mine, he’s into music so I grew up with him talking about it all the time.”

“Well, I’ve been playing for decades,” she answered with a sad kind of smile. “My dad taught me when I was kid. There was a lot of tension in my house growing up and he thought it might help to have an outlet for my emotions.”

“Parents suck.”

He saw her glance at him, a question in her eyes at his vehemence, but she pressed her lips together instead of asking a follow up. “Just let me know when to stop.”

“Another block and you can pull over. Did you always write?”

“Yes, with varying degrees of success. I took this song writing course in college, as an elective, and I loved it. I remember going home and trying to write, but my life had revolved around school for so long I didn’t have anything to write about. Then my dad died and suddenly I had something to write about.”

He smiled, “Explains why your stuff is so moody.”

She looked up, must have seen the teasing, and laughed. “I have a friend who says the same thing. ‘Write about birds or something’ is what she says.”

“One raven for sorrow, two for joy.”

“What?”

“She wants you to write about birds, but you want to be moody. If you see one raven it means sorrow is to come, two means joy.”

She grinned and it lit up her face. “She’s going to hate that, especially since her name is Rave. Hold on let me get that saved.” Clarke pulled off to the side of the road, not exactly parked but enough out of the way someone could get around her if necessary. “One second,” she unbuckled herself and then reached through their seats to get her bag from the back.

There was a second she lost her balance and grabbed his shoulder and Bellamy tried to think about anything but her fingers clutching at his shirt. “Sorry,” she apologized, her face a little flushed under the streetlights. “I wanted to get my phone and almost dropped it.”

“No problem," and he was pretty certain his voice sounded normal. Hopefully.

She swiped through her phone and he saw her pull up a recording ap. “Can you say that again?”

“Do you want my paraphrasing or the actual rhyme?”

“The actual rhyme. Wait, you know an actual nursery rhyme?”

“I know more than one." He looked down at the phone, "Are you going to record me?”

“Just your voice, if you don’t mind.”

“Um, okay.”

“It takes a while to not be self-conscious,” she conceded, taking pity on him. “Just look at me and it’ll sound more natural.”

Focusing on her face was exactly a hardship, but probably not best for the vague crush he could feel growing in his ribs. Before he could distract himself he rattled off the most well-known version of the rhyme then stopped. “But I prefer, ‘One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth. Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self.”

“I like that version too,” she commented as she stopped the recording. “Thanks.”

“I get a byline on the song now, right?”

She shifted in her seat as if she was happy to sit there and talk to him until the sun came up. “Sure, I’ll give you a quarter for every dollar I make off of it.”

“Awesome, I can’t wait to be rich.” He looked out the windshield. “My sister has been watching us this whole time, by the way.”

Clarke leaned forward, her eyes searching the buildings. “I don’t know where I’m looking.”

“She’s probably on the roof where she’s not supposed to be. She usually gets up early for school to finish homework, and when it's nice like this she goes up on the roof to do it, but there’s no way she heard a car drive by and didn’t look to see who it was. By this point her nosiness has alerted her to my presence.”

“Having a sister seems weird.”

“It is,” he admitted. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for the gig.”

Bellamy stepped out of the car and eventually made his way to his apartment where Octavia was sitting on the couch as if she’d been there the whole time.

“You ever think about majoring in espionage?”

She glared at him. “Who was the girl?”

“How did you even see us from up there?”

“I took AP espionage in school,” she quipped. “Who is the girl?”

“The singer, from yesterday. She’s going to working at the bar part time when Murphy goes on leave so I'm training her.”

“Are you into her?”

He stopped with his jacket half off. “Why do you care?”

She tilted her head as if the answer should be obvious. “I’m going to be leaving for college.”

“I seem to remember something about that," he dropped his wallet and keys onto the counter and went searching for caffeine.

Octavia got up and followed him to the kitchen. “What will you do without someone to smother? You need someone in your life to take care of in order for you to be complete as a person.”

Bellamy huffed out a laugh, leaning back against the counter to look at his sister. “I don’t think that’s true.”

She ignored him. “And if you’re into a girl, she could be that person and I don’t have to worry about you adopting pigeons in order to have something to worry about that.”

“Are you high?”

Octavia laughed, “No. I’m serious.”

“Okay. If I promise not to adopt any pigeons while you’re at school, will you leave it alone?”

“All wild animals.”

He held up his right hand as if he was swearing an oath. “I promise not to adopt any wild animals after you leave for college.”

Octavia nodded as if satisfied. “I still think you’re into her.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked as she started gathering up the props she’d used to pretend she hadn’t been spying.

“You were smiling when you came home,” she told him with a knowing smile and disappeared into her room.

 

Bellamy was in his office when Clarke came into the bar, he heard her greet Murphy who grunted back, he heard her catch up with Harper as they had become fast friends the night before, and then the shifting of sound which he figured was her setting up.

As soon as he scheduled her he’d started a word of mouth campaign to get more people into the bar. While Clarke probably hadn’t heard while he was training her, he'd told nearly everyone he helped about how they were going to have some amazing live music the next night and he wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to get her back any time soon.

They should get in while they could.

He wasn’t sure how well it would work, but he hoped there would be enough people on a Thursday night to keep it from being awkward.

“That was a meaningful sigh, and you’ve got a face.”

“Thank God,” he muttered when he heard Clarke speak up from the doorway. “It’d be weird if I was walking around without a face.”

“In a good mood tonight, are we?”

Belatedly, he realized he was being a dick. “Sorry, I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Yeah, I figured that from the face. You get this furrow in your brow when you’re working through something,” she pointed out and he absently touched the place she indicated and wondered how she had picked up on that so quickly. “Anything I can help with?”

He watched her sit down in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. He thought he noticed a touch of nerves in the way she moved. “Not unless you know of a place within public transportation to take an 18-year-old girl who is feeling slightly abandoned by her asshole of a big brother.”

“The zoo.”

Bellamy looked up, surprised by the quick answer. “The zoo?”

“No one is too old for the zoo if that’s what you’re thinking. You just have to plan it right so you catch all feedings and shows and stuff.”

He didn’t think Octavia had been to the zoo since she was in elementary school. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “I like watching the hippos being fed, but that’s just because they’re my favorite. But watching the lions feed is pretty cool, it’s better than watching them sleep anyway.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“A friend of mine works there,” she admitted with a shrug. “My friend I told you about, Raven? She’s a mechanic and works on a bunch of stuff at the zoo so she’s kind of got an inside scoop on the place. I can give her a call, have her set you up with tickets.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Clarke shrugged like it was no big deal. “No, she likes doing stuff like this. It makes her feel important and better than everyone else.”

Bellamy laughed. “Yeah, if that’s something you can set up, I would really appreciate it.”

“I’ll text her and if there’s anything for you to know, I’ll pass it on. When were you planning on going?”

“Sunday. But if that’s too soon-“

Clarke was shaking his head before he even finished his sentence. “I think she literally just has to tell someone ‘put tickets at the booth’ so it’s no big deal. Can I hang out in here till it’s time to go on?”

“I don’t care what you do,” he informed her as his phone went off. “I’m going to be up front, but if you need anything, holler.”

Clarke nodded and pulled out her own phone as Bellamy stepped out of the office to see his friend and neighbor sitting at the edge of the bar where he’d texted Bellamy he’d be.

Before Monty could get a chance to order Bellamy asked Atom to make nachos before getting a cider for both himself and Monty.

“I didn’t know you were coming in tonight,” Bellamy said by way of greeting, sitting next to him.

“Octavia mentioned you had a singer when I ran into her by the mailboxes,” Monty confessed. “I thought I’d come in and check her out.”

Bellamy nodded and went into the back where Clarke was still pretending to be on her phone. “When you get a second, I want to introduce you to someone.”

“I’m just keeping myself busy so I don’t make myself nervous,” she admitted and set her phone on his desk. “Lead the way.”

Bellamy gestured to Monty when they came back out to the front. “This is Monty Green, he lives on the floor above me and O. Monty, this is Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke paused as she held her hand out, and because it was Monty, he didn’t say anything as he took her hand in his and shook it once.

“I know that name. Why do I know that name?”

Monty’s smile was knowing. “I do a show on YouTube.”

“Raven.”

“Monty,” Monty corrected with a smile.

“No,” Clarke laughed. “I mean, my friend Raven. She’s how I know you’re name. She watches your show, I’ve seen an episode or two, but all that math and science and engineering stuff goes over my head. I like the explosions though.”

“Most people do,” Monty conceded, sipping his cider.

“Can I take a picture with you? She’s going to hate me.”

Monty laughed and Bellamy walked away as they pressed their cheeks together to take a quick selfie.

The crowd was a decent size for a Thursday night, so at least he could cross awkward night of three people hanging out in a bar off his list. When it got close to eight he got Harper’s attention and because she was better at introductions than he was she got the customers excited to hear the music.

Clarke walked up, her guitar slung across her body, and barely bothered greeting the crowd before she starting with a summer song from years back everyone knew the words to.

She’d told him her strategy, get them emotionally invested with nostalgia before hitting them with something new. She’d mix new stuff in with the familiar and hopefully keep the crowd interested in the meantime.

And from the way the crowd was reacting three songs in, he thought it was a good strategy.

Bellamy kept an eye on the drinks, getting up to help serve when necessary but when he got a small break half way through her set he leaned against the bar across from where Monty was sitting, so he heard his friend when he murmured, “Shit, she’s good.”

He couldn't say how happy he was to not be the only one who thought they had lightning in a bottle. “Right? If we can get the word out, we’d have people packed in here.”

Monty picked up his phone, “I’m going to take some video.”

Bellamy glanced away from Clarke for a moment to look at Monty. “What for?”

“So you can put it up on Facebook or Instagram.”

With a snort Bellamy turned his attention back to Clarke. “Dude, if you think we’re on Instagram you’re seriously overestimating the owner’s emotional invest in the bar.”

“Then I’m setting you up an Instagram. We’ll take some photos and post the video, garner some interest and get people in here. I’ve got a pretty decent following, I’ll give you guys a bump and that should help.”

“I could use the tips that comes from more people.” He paused before looking at Monty. “You really think she’s that good?”

“Yeah. I do.”

 

At the end of the night Clarke had to turn down a handful of drink offers and mingled with the crowd while sipping a beer.

“I don’t want to get drunk,” she told him when they’d passed each other and he asked if she wanted another. “I want to remember this.”

“You’ve had gigs before," he reminded her, the size of the crowd almost pushing him into her.

“Nothing like this,” she told him earnestly. “There was something different about this one.”

Then she’d wandered off to talk to Monty and the two of them leaned over his phone for a couple of minutes. He thought Clarke would go home shortly after she was done playing but she hung out until after closing. The bar had been cleaned up, the cooks and servers gone as Bellamy counting out money in the office and ran his end of day processes. She was sitting in the chair across fro him with a glass of water and her notebook out, writing while keeping up a string of conversation. Her energy seemed relentless.

“Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Sometimes," she admitted without looking up from the page. "It’s hard to sleep after playing in front of a crowd. It should probably matter it was only fifty people, but I always get that adrenaline high which I inevitably crash for.”

Bellamy’s eyes sharpened are her. “Are you okay to get home?”

That made Clarke look up, a fond smile on her face as she watched him. “Do you enjoy worrying?”

“No,” he grumbled even as she grinned.

“I’ll be fine,” she promised.

He had no reason not to believe her, but at the same time... “Why don’t you go home now, while you’re high on adrenaline and then text me when you get there so I know you didn’t die.”

“You’re worried about me now?”

Bellamy deflected embarrassment with sarcasm. “Worried about all the video Monty took being for nothing.”

“Good point, I wouldn’t want to put Monty out.” She got up and put her stuff in her bag, but instead of leaving she walked around the desk and leaned down to kiss Bellamy’s cheek.

“Thanks.”

And before he could get his act together enough to react, she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re going to drop me off at a fire station, aren’t you?” Octavia accused as she shifted on the hard plastic seat of the train. “That’s why you’re not telling me where we’re going.”

Bellamy scoffed. “If I was going to drop you off somewhere I’d have done it a long time ago.”

“Where are we going?” she pressed.

“What part of ‘it’s a surprise’ is confusing? You’re about to go to college, kid, you better be smarter than that.”

“I don’t get a hint? Or a clue? I don’t think I’ve even been on this line before.”

That had been the best part of waking Octavia up that Sunday morning. She’d made a few guesses of what they might be doing but as soon as they got onto this part of the metro system she’d been dumbfounded and confused.

“Can you wait three minutes?”

“In theory.” She leaned back in her seat. “Since when do guys have an Instagram?”

“Since Monty decided we needed one. We think Clarke’s going to be popular so we want to try and bring as many people in as possible. Monty’s good at promotion so I’m trusting him. How do you know we have an Instagram?”

“Zoe told me.”

“How did Zoe know?”

“I don’t know. Guess word is just getting around,” she answered, her voice slowing along with the train car. “The zoo?”

He took comfort in the fact she didn’t say it with disdain, but with actual, genuine surprise.

“I have it on good authority zoos are fun no matter your age,” Bellamy told her as he swung an arm over her shoulders and led her towards the entrance. “I’ll buy you an elephant ear.”

Octavia smiled at the promise of sugar covered fried dough. “Well, when you put it that way.”

Bellamy stepped up to one of the ticket booths and smiled at the middle-aged woman on the other side of the glass. “I’m picking up tickets, Bellamy Blake?”

“Picking up?” Octavia asked.

“Uh, Clarke. The singer? Her friend works here and Clarke said she could get us VIP passes.”

“Cool, I want to pet a tiger.”

Bellamy laughed. “I don’t think that’s an option but dare to dream.”

“I don’t have your tickets here,” the woman said through the speaker. “One of our employees is going to meet you here and she’ll take you inside.”

Glancing at his sister, Bellamy stepped forward and lowered his voice. “There’s not a problem?”

“Oh no, I’m guessing the employee just wants to give you a run through. She’ll be here in a moment.”

Octavia grabbed a map, “Come on, bro. Let’s plan on our attack.”

Bellamy nodded and looked over the map and because Clarke had given him a list from online with feeding times he suggested they work around those.

“Hey, are you Bellamy Blake?”

Bellamy looked up at the greeting to see a woman in uniform with a wide smile and long ponytail. “Yeah. This is my sister, Octavia.”

She held out her hand to greet them both. “I’m Raven Reyes, Clarke’s friend.”

“Oh, the mechanic.”

She grinned again. “I prefer to be referred to as goddess of all moving parts but yeah, mechanic works. Come with me.”

“Are we getting a personal tour,” Octavia asked and she seemed almost giddy.

“Pretty close to it.” She reached into her back pocket and handed them two lanyards. “Can I see your map? You’re going to want to be at these three places at these times,” she wrote down a times on different parts of the map. “I’ll try to meet you but if I get caught up the people at those exhibits will be able to help you out. I have to keep this place running or I’d just take you around by myself.”

“This is more than enough,” Bellamy assured her.

“Cool,” she handed the map back. “The lanyards give you a discount in the gift shop and the food carts. I wrote my number on the bottom of the map if you need anything or anyone hassles you. It was nice to meet you Octavia, and it’s nice to finally put a face to the name Bellamy.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Octavia waited until Raven had walked away before she turned to him. “Finally put a face to the name?”

“I guess Clarke mentioned me,” Bellamy evaded and started towards the artic section on the map.

Octavia laughed and bumped her shoulder against his. “You guess? Girl must have been talking you up for us to get a set up like this.”

She looked down at the lanyard and the smile on her face was enough for Bellamy to let Clarke play at his bar for the rest of eternity. “Maybe you’ll get to pet a tiger after all.”

They looked at every single animal in the zoo, ate sugar and junk food and drank too much soda but they laughed more than he could remember doing in a long time. Raven had been friendly and snarky and Bellamy liked her.

She found them with the giraffes after lunch. Octavia had never particularly cared for them as a child but the caretaker was telling them bizarre facts which fascinated his sister.

“They used to be called camel leopards,” Raven told him after she said hi. “Which, honestly, changing the name to giraffe was a terrible idea.”

Bellamy smiled. “Camel leopard is way more descriptive. Thanks again for setting this up, you went way above and beyond.”

She brushed off the compliment “Clarke told me to make it to cool and I haven’t had a good reason to call in my favors.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that for us.”

“Are you kidding me? Do this thing because remember that one time I did the thing for you is one of my favorite phrases and I haven’t gotten to say it in a while.”

“How long have you known Clarke?”

“A few years, we had the opposite of a meet cute.”

“Leave ugly?”

Raven started laughing, hard enough she started wiping away tears at the corner of her eyes. “That is so appropriate, you have no idea. Wow. I’m totally going to tell her you said that.”

“I have so many more questions now.”

“I know,” she patted his shoulder as if to console him. “Let Clarke tell you, I’ve had to tell the story to too many people. If you guys don’t need anything I have to get back, I’ve got a broken door in the hyena enclosure.”

Bellamy’s eyes must have widened because she laughed. “Don’t worry, the problem is we can’t open it so they can get in at night.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“I did,” she grinned. “It was nice to meet you Bellamy.”

They stayed almost until the zoo closed, and by the time they got home Octavia was practically asleep on her feet, and so was Bellamy as he’d barely slept after his shift before they’d left for the zoo. Bellamy guided Octavia to her bedroom but instead of going inside she turned around gave Bellamy the kind of hug he didn’t think he’d gotten from her in years.

“Thanks, Bell.”

“It was a pretty cool day,” he murmured as he hugged her back.

“The best.”

Before he crashed, Bellamy pulled out his phone to text Clarke: _Thanks._

She replied almost instantaneously: _Anytime._

He needed to sleep, desperately, but his brain wasn’t quite ready to shut off completely and going with instinct-and before he could talk himself out of it-he turned the text message with Clarke into a phone call.

It rang twice before she answered.

“You must not be writing if you’re answering texts that quickly.”

“I’m giving myself a break,” she told him. “I’m currently curled up on my couch watching tv. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Yep.”

She laughed, the sound bright and sudden. “And the reason you’re not?”

“Probably the fifteen pounds of ice cream and sugar I ate today.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to work tonight.” There was a brief silence before she sighed loudly. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or not?”

“I didn’t know you were emotionally invested in the outcome,” he told her dryly.

“I’m an artist,” she reminded him. “Just assume I’m emotionally invested in everything.”

“Good to know,” he laid back against his pillow. “I’m in bed, so if stop responding to you it’s not because I’m ignoring you, or hung up, I probably just fell asleep.”

She snorted, a sound of amusement. “I love knowing I can put a man to sleep.”

“Everyone’s got to have a thing.”

“Bell,” she warned and it was the first time he could remember her using his nickname.

“It went extremely well,” he told her. “Octavia flipped at being allowed to feed a baby giraffe.”

“Is that what you guys ended up doing?”

“Among other things, but that was the highlight. I had a feeling if your friend decided to walk out with an elephant, no one would stop her.”

“She’ll be pleased to hear that, and you’re not entirely wrong. She’s literally the smartest person I’ve ever met so the zoo is basically dependent on her to keep it up and running.”

“You should bring her to the bar sometime and I can introduce her to the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

“She’s still pissed I got to meet Monty before her, so that might put me back into her good graces. She would have come last week when I was singing but a family thing came up, I’ll try to make sure and drag her this week.”

“First round is on the house.”

“Even better.”

There was another pause in the conversation but it wasn’t awkward, or at least it wasn’t for Bellamy. There was something kind of cool about the silence, knowing Clarke was there, on the other end of the line. “What’s the first song you ever learned how to play?”

He could almost hear the hesitation. “You have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“I can’t even pretend to make that promise.”

Clarke sighed dramatically. “Breakaway.”

“Kelly Clarkson,” Bellamy laughed. “So much about you just made sense.”

“Asshole.”

She sounded like she smiled when she said it, so Bellamy wasn’t offended.

“What was the first drink you ever poured?”

“Legally? Sex on the beach. I don’t even remember who ordered it, but the assholes I worked with at the called me sex on the beach for the next week.”

“When did you start working at the Dropship.”

“I’ve always worked there,” he admitted. “It’s the only place I’ve ever worked. I started when I was fifteen, I’d come in after closing and mop up, stuff like that. I moved my way up the ranks over the years. Now I mop up as a manager.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Clarke admonished. “You’ve done something pretty impressive. Honestly, more than once in the past week I’ve thought you should just buy the bar.”

The idea surprised him, not because he’d never thought about it, but because he had. It was a desperate dream he’d had for more than a year now; buying the bar from the owner, making it his own, putting his stamp on something he’d put his blood, sweat, and heart in.

It wasn’t something he’d never told anyone, and it was unnerving for Clarke to pick that kernel of want and hold it out in front of him.

“I should?” he asked, his voice strained. “Why do you think that?”

“Because in the week I’ve been there I haven’t met him, I don’t even know if it’s a him? No one has said his name, or referred to him, you’re the boss. I mean, if you ask me he doesn’t care about the bar, and you do.”

“I do?”

There was a smile in her voice when she answered. “If you’re trying for apathetic you should probably care less about Murphy’s medical bills after his wife has the baby, or making sure Harper has earlier shifts so she can get home in time to sleep before classes.”

“Just because I’m not a shit boss doesn’t mean I want to own a bar.”

“Just think about it. In the meantime, go to sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll think about it,” he promised. “Night, Clarke.”

“Night, Bell.”

When he went to sleep, there was music in his dreams and the bar was called Bellamy’s.

 

When Bellamy walked into the bar on Tuesday evening Clarke was once again early for her shift and sitting at the bar with her notebook. This time when he got a little closer she didn’t snap it shut and he thought that was some kind of progress.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a new car,” he informed her sardonically. “What does it look like?”

She pet the tiny hippo he’d dropped in her lap as if was a real animal and he couldn’t help but smile at her look of awe. “You got me a stuffed animal.”

“As a thank you for calling your friend,” he told her as he settled next to her on another stool.

Clarke settled the stuffed animal on her lap so it was sitting upright and facing Bellamy. “I’m glad you guys got to do something cool, I just asked Raven to give you guys a behind the scenes hook up but I didn’t think she’d manage that.”

“Well, she delivered above and beyond.”

“I’m glad you guys had fun. Did you take any pictures?”

Bellamy took his phone out of his back pocket and pulled up the album he’d made for the trip and handed it to Clarke. “O sent me some of the ones she took of me, they’re in there too.”

She smiled as she started going through the pictures meticulously. “You’re telling me this so I don’t think you’re posing for candid selfies?”

“Pretty much.”

He walked away so he wasn’t hovering and started stocking the bar and looked up when Clarke was suddenly beside him with his phone held out. “Those were great. I sent one to myself, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No.” He took the phone back and liked how close she was. Not quite close to touch, but close he could pretend he could feel the heat emanating off her body. “Was it the one after Octavia shoved ice cream up my nose?”

Clarke laughed. “No, but I was tempted. I don’t have a sibling so I don’t know what it’s like to have a sister, or a brother, but you guys seem to have it figured it out.”

“We figured it all out the hard way. Our childhood sucked and when you’re on a sinking boat you either drown the other guy for their resources or you work together to survive.”

“You’d never drown someone for their resources,” Clarke told him matter-of-factly as she clocked in.

“I wouldn’t?”

“You can be a dick,” she replied with a pointed look and he smiled. “But in the past week I’ve seen you work yourself to the bone for everyone here and worry over your sister. You’re kind of impressive.”

“You were almost a doctor,” he reminded her as if that somehow might change the way she looked at him. “You could potentially save lives and I mop up at the end of the night.”

Clarke smiled again, and the feeling he had when he watched her drive away the first night he met her came back ten-fold. Something was changing here and he couldn’t stop it and didn’t think he would if he could.

“Anyone can save a life if they get enough training, a physical life anyway. Not everyone can save souls.”

Bellamy stared at her and couldn’t help but reply, emphatically, “Fuck that. I don’t do that.”

“You’re giving the life you could have had to your sister,” when he looked at her, surprised, she laughed. “Harper and I have been bonding.”

“Great.”

“You gave Murphy, an ex-con, a job and trusted him. You gave him the chance to take care of his family and hold his head up. And you gave a very lost girl a place to sing. If you don’t think you’re saving all of us, on a daily basis, you’re an idiot.”

Bellamy couldn’t think of anything to say, and when at a loss for words, his default was asshole. “Should you really be calling your savior an idiot?”

Clarke laughed and pulled her hair up and out of her face. “I’m going to get more tequila,” then she kissed his cheek and walked into the back.

Bellamy stared at her, not quite sure what to make of the moment or what she’d said. “I might be into the new singer.”

“Fucking shocker,” Murphy replied automatically as he passed Bellamy with a tray of food.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is basically Clarke's POV of the last three chapters, I tried to make sure it wasn't too repetitive and I'll have new content posted Very Soon.
> 
> ENJOY!

A Week Ago…

Clarke dumped her jacket on the chair of her apartment and headed straight for the window, pushing the curtains open so she could stare out the window, restless in her own skin.

She hadn’t expected her reaction to Bellamy; to the guy in the alley with his tousled hair and insolent eyes but he was staying with her like the vague cigarette smoke lingering on her clothes. There had been something angrily resigned about him which had struck Clarke like a hot ember.

Now, standing in her dark apartment with the city lights spread out in front of her, she focused on that moment when she’d first seen him.

Tense shoulders, cigarette burning red, and for the first time in months she’d felt the spark of attraction. More than attraction she corrected herself, if she was going to be honest, she’d felt the quick and sudden bite of want.

Desire.

Without looking, without realizing exactly what she was doing, Clarke switched on a lamp, grabbed a pad of paper and pen, and then picked up her guitar.

She sat down on her couch with her phone on the coffee table, an app recording her as she started to fumble through chords. In her mind she knew what she wanted and Clarke had no problem spending ten minutes recreating it with her fingers, something low and a little sultry.

Then came the words, coming so quick and hurried they nearly tripped over each other in their rush to get on the paper. Leather, those long fingers, the rush of want.

More than an hour into the writing her back started to hurt so she got up to get water and saw the sun had begun to rise. Maybe another morning she’d have stopped to admire it but the mood she was in, the song she was writing, required darkness, so she shut the curtains and crossed her legs.

She read through the lyrics, the melody playing through her head, and made a few corrections here and there, following her gut in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

Clarke forgot about the water on the table as she got lost again in the magic of creating, and eventually she felt the tension release from her shoulders.

It wasn’t finished yet, but more importantly it was good.

She recorded a complete run through of what she had so far, and was somewhere in the second verse when her phone went off.

Confused, she looked at the alarm and tried to remember why she’d set it.

She was so exhausted her brain wasn’t fully working and it took five whole seconds for her to remember she’d agreed to have breakfast with Raven.

Clarke hopped into the shower with an eye on the time. The alarm had been to wake her up so she could meet Raven at a cafe a few streets over and now that she was realizing how long she’d been awake, she was craving any kind of caffeine.

Almost an hour later, with her still damp hair twisted into a bun, she slid into the seat across from Raven. “Hey.”

Raven looked up from her coffee, her eyes doing a quick study of her friend. “You look like shit.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Clarke grinned as she settled into her seat and picked up a menu. “I was writing most of the night.”

Raven looked surprised which Clarke couldn’t fault her for because it had been a long time since she’d announced that she’d been writing anything without sounding vaguely despondent. “Yeah? That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, it’s good.” She was still buzzing, like she’d had a shot after chugging a beer. “It’s really, really good. I don’t think I’ve written like this since… since before Lexa.”

Raven wisely kept her mouth shut about the Lexa, but Clarke was tired of tiptoeing around her ex and all the drama she’d brought with her. “Anything worth listening to?”

Clarke nodded and stole a drink of Raven’s coffee while she waited for the waitress to make her way over. “It will be, once I polish it up. Hopefully you’ll be able to come by the bar to listen.”

“You got a steady gig?”

“It’s not confirmed yet,” she corrected, and even while she was trying not to get her hopes up, she was almost positive Bellamy was going to call her. Maybe. Probably. “I met with someone last night about getting something steady and he took my flash drive to listen to.”

“Where at?”

“The Dropship? I asked around and apparently they usually have a pretty decent music scene but haven’t had anyone lately. The new song won’t be ready for a while, but it’ll be nice to be singing again in front of people.”

Raven took her coffee back and Clarke looked around for the waitress, hoping she was on her way over. “What kicked it off? The song I mean.”

“I don’t want you to read anything into this,” Clarke warned. “It was a guy.”

Raven’s eyes widened but she didn’t get a chance to say anything because the waitress finally came over to take their order and she had to wait until the woman had walked away before she could respond.

“A guy?”

“The manager of the bar,” Clarke clarified, trying to make it sound less important than it had felt. Yes, she had wanted grab him by the leather jacket and make out with him in the alley. Yes, she vaguely felt like she had loved him in a past life. Yes, he had inspired her to write for the first time in longer than she’d care to admit, but it wasn’t like she wanted to marry him or anything. “I ended up helping him out.”

“You’re not a bartender.”

“I’m aware, but so was he. He had to send a bartender home because some guy practically assaulted her. She was upset and he didn’t want to make her keep working.”

“This is what he told you?”

“One of the servers.” Clarke took a drink of her own coffee after it was placed in front of her. “He did piss me off at one point when he asked if I was an idiot for quitting med school. He apologized for it, but I don’t know, there was something about him.”

“You’re into him,” Raven realized and Clarke didn’t like the way her friend said it. She felt way too seen.

“I don’t-“ she started to lie but was immediately cut off by her friend.

“You are.” Raven sat back in her chair. “Well, fuck.”

“Don’t make it a thing, Raven.”

“When was the last time you were interested in anything?” Raven challenged. “We don’t have to focus on it, if you don’t want to. It just feels big.”

Clarke stared at her coffee, shifting it on the placemat. “Can you blame me for being a little guarded? After Fin, Lexa, and then all the death interspersed in between? There were times I thought if I had to feel one more thing I’d fall apart.”

“Hence the writer’s block.”

“Hence the writer’s block,” Clarke agreed, reaching into her bag to pull out her journal. Flipping through the pages she found what she’d been working on and handed it to Raven. She’d send the audio later.

“So, what was it about his guy?” she asked before looking at the page.

“I don’t think there’s really anything special about him,” she lied. “I just think he was in the right place at the right time. I was ready and there he was.”

Raven nodded, her eyes focused on the words written on the page.

Clarke fiddled with her phone so she wouldn’t focus on the Raven’s face. As usual, Raven didn’t say whether or not she liked the song. Clarke thought it was the best way she knew how to be supportive, to not give negative or positive feedback until it was done. Clarke had to learn to trust herself and her own instincts without depending on Raven’s validation.

“I can’t wait to meet him. Does he know you’re writing a song about him?”

“I wrote it when I got home a few hours ago and then I came here, when would I have told him?”

Raven shut the book and handed it back to Clarke. “Are you going to tell him?”

Clarke put it away as she answered. “Probably not. People get weird about being written about and I want to be friendly with him.”

“I bet you do,” Raven grinned.

“How long are you going to keep up with the sex jokes?”

She seemed to seriously consider the question before answering. “At least a couple days.”

“Good to know.”

They caught up on all the little things they hadn’t texted about since they saw each other last; Raven bemoaned the difficulty of dating with her bum knee, and Clarke agreed that people in general sucked.

By the end of the meal Clarke could feel the warring sensations of a caffeine high and sheer exhaustion and wanted to sleep for sixteen hours and run a marathon. She paid the tab and followed Raven out to the sidewalk where they waited for her Uber to arrive.

“When do you think you’ll find out about the gig?”

“I’m hoping today, but I don’t know when. Bellamy closed last night so I imagine he’ll probably sleep till the afternoon? I’ll text you as soon as I know.”

“You should let your mom know too.”

Clarke scrunched her nose, “I don’t know.”

“It’s a good thing, right? You should share good things with family.”

“I don’t want her to bring me down.”

“You think she would?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke admitted. “I guess I just don’t want to give her the chance to, which isn’t fair, but I’m barely managing being a functional human being and I don’t want to risk a step back.”

“People can surprise you.”

Clarke thought about Bellamy, about how he’d been rude to her but had also sincerely apologized; he’d surprised her.

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Raven leaned forward and gave Clarke a hug as her car pulled up to the sidewalk. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, love you.”

“Love you too,” Raven waved as she slid into the passenger seat.

Sleep, Clarke thought, turning in the direction of her apartment. She desperately needed sleep.

 

The bar was empty, the lights were down low, and something slow was playing over the speakers as Clarke and Bellamy cleaned up the bar.

There was a palpable tension in the air as they worked around each other, and whenever Bellamy would walk past Clarke he’d touch her lightly. His fingers on her shoulder, his palm on her back, and each time he touched her he lingered just a little longer until Clarke’s skin was all but buzzing from want.

The next time he passed her, Bellamy put his hand on the curve of her hip and all but pressed up against her back. Frustrated because there was more than enough room for him to get around her without this much contact she turned around and grabbed his other hand, putting it on her other hip.

“Are you going to keep teasing me, or are you going to do something?” she challenged and without saying anything Bellamy took a step forward, pressing his pelvis into hers and she could feel his erection through his jeans.

She wasn’t the only one affected and her breath left her in a rush as pressed her against the cabinet.

“I’m going to do something,” he murmured, his voice low.

He pressed his mouth to hers, his fingers tightening on her skin so she could feel the pressure of them through her clothes. Clarke wrapped her arms around his middle and tugged him closer, shifted the angle of the kiss so it was a little hotter, a little dirtier.

She wanted to wipe his mind of everything but her.

Bellamy murmured her name as he lifted her, setting her hard on one of the bar tables. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, his hands roaming up and down her body before settling on her breasts.

Clarke wanted it, wanted him, and was about to tell him exactly how she wanted him when the room started vibrating.

Waking up with a curse, Clarke rolled over in her bed and picked up her phone to see an unknown number on her screen, still not completely awake she answered with a groggy hello.

“Hi, it’s Bellamy Blake. From the bar?”

“Oh!” She’d just been dreaming about his hands under her shirt. “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to call and tell you I liked your stuff and if you’re still looking for a place to play I can give you an hour on Thursday night.”

She didn’t even have to think about it, “I’ll take it.”

“I didn’t tell you what time or if we’re going to pay you.”

“It could be at noon and I wouldn’t care, and I assume I at least get a meal and some drinks.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty standard though,” he explained a few more details and Clarke could barely contain her excitement at an actual gig at an actual bar with a reputation for good music.

“And thanks for filling in like you did last night. You didn’t have to do that and it was a huge help.”

Clarke shrugged even though he couldn’t see her. “No problem, it was fun.”

He snorted, which was kind of adorable. “You obviously need to get out more.”

“You’re not wrong, but if you never need a hand, feel free to call me. I could use the extra money.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, why?”

Bellamy explained how one of the bartender’s and his wife were expecting a baby soon and he was trying to figure out how to make the schedule work without hiring someone long term.

“I can do that,” she assured him. “You’ve got my number so just tell me when you want me.”

Clarke closed her eyes at the wording, her brain apparently too sex addled to work properly.

“Actually, are you available tonight by any chance? I can train you on our system in a less chaotic environment and take care of the paperwork.”

Sex buzz turned into celebration and Clarke did a little dance in her bed. “What time?”

“Six, or at least that’s when I start my shift. You can show up any time after that.”

Clarke looked at the time on her phone, it was almost four which meant she’d had a decent amount of sleep. “I can do six. Is there a dress code?”

“Nothing which can get you arrested.”

With a laugh she wrapped up the conversation and as soon as she hung up the phone she got up and did a little victory dance, unable to believe her luck.

She had a gig, she had a job; for the time in what felt like too long, things were finally, finally going her way.

All she had to do now was retain a professional relationship with the man she was insanely attracted to and everything would be fine.

 

Clarke got to the bar early because after she got off the phone she couldn’t settle enough to do anything. Still not sure what to wear she’d thrown on jeans and a blank tank top, and her father’s watch which she never went anywhere without.

When she walked in there was a gangly guy behind the bar and a friendly looking waitress moving around the tables. “Excuse me?”

The woman stopped and smiled, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m here to meet Bellamy,” she explained. “Is it okay if I sit at the bar?”

“Sure, do you want something to drink?”

“No, I’m starting my first shift today.”

There was a slight shift in the woman’s expression. “Oh. Okay, I didn’t know he was hiring anyone.”

“I think it was last minute? My name’s Clarke.”

“Harper,” she introduced as she shook Clarke’s extended hand, but she seemed a little hesitant. “The bartender is Murphy, if you need anything just holler at one of us.”

“Thanks.” Clarke slid onto one of the stools and put her bag on the chair next to her, pulling out her notebook and pen to try and get some writing done.

Raven accused her once of having turrets of the fingers, writing down nonsense after nonsense when she wanted to write but didn’t know what she wanted to write. She was just writing random phrases which came to mind. Cliches and quotes, hoping something would catch her attention and spark her creativity.

She must have dived pretty deep into the well because when someone set a glass of water next to her she jolted. When she saw it was Bellamy she realized she must have let the time get away from her. “Shit! Sorry, I didn’t realize-“

“It’s fine,” he assured her, a smile on his face. “You’re doing me a favor anyway. Are you writing something?

Clarke shut her journal quickly because she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t written his name down at one point. “A song,” she answered quickly and saw the look of hurt at being so abruptly brushed off. “It’s a work in progress.”

“Cool. I’m ready whenever you are.”

 

Bartending wasn’t like anything she had ever done, but Clarke enjoyed it.

There was a certain amount of people watching which Clarke thought was great inspiration for stories. Love birds, and friendships, people obviously having affairs. There was life here, in Harper making fun of Bellamy and Bellamy asking her if she was ready for school, in Murphy talking about his wife and Atom trying to get information about Octavia, and Clarke was beginning to think this was what she been missing.

Death had been a shadow which had followed her, and so had heartbreak.

It never occurred to her that a way to combat that heaviness was people and life and cheap shots of tequila.

“He’s such a worry wart,” Harper was saying as she and Clarke picked up chairs at the end of the night and flipped them over to rest on the tables. “As soon as I told him I was starting school he started messing with the schedule so I could get home sooner to sleep. I told him I didn’t mind the later nights, but when Bellamy gets to worrying there’s nothing that can stop him.”

“You were the one who had a problem with the guy yesterday, right? He sent you home.”

Harper nodded. “Again, he didn’t need to do that, but I’m glad he did. I was so shaky by the time I got home. What about you? Bellamy said you were going to school to be a doctor?”

“Uh…”

Her smile was sympathetic and a little amused. “There’s like a dozen people working here at any one time, and we all know everything about each other. We’re a bunch of gossips.”

“Then please, tell me everything.”

Harper’s grin was a little sharper this time. “That was an evasion, albeit a good one, and since it’s your first official day and you covered for me yesterday I’ll allow it.”

Good to her word Harper told Clarke everything she needed to know as they cleaned up the dining area and when Bellamy and Atom realized what they were doing they chimed in with anecdotes.

When Harper left Atom went with her, leaving her and Bellamy alone in the bar at 4am.

It was so close to the dream she’d had just a handful of hours before Clarke felt an itch between her shoulder blades, and tried to keep the conversation to superficial things. Not because she didn’t trust Bellamy but because she was so used to keep things close to the vest the idea of opening up caused a flutter of panic behind her ribs.

He had a dry wit and terrible taste in music and when she offered to make him a playlist of stuff to listen to he ginned at her. “Back in the day, making a mix tape for someone meant you were sweet on them.”

Clarke could feel the blush on her cheeks and hoped it wasn’t too obvious. Better to deflect than admit she was, in fact, sweet on him.

When she was leaving the bar with Bellamy, she was pretty sure she’d accidentally slipped and called him beautiful at one point, but whatever. Following instinct, she asked Bellamy if he wanted a ride and it was a shock to her how comfortable she’d become with him in a short period time.

“I don’t want to put you out.”

She assured him it wouldn't and led the way to her car, turning the volume down as soon as she turned the engine on. “Sorry, I listen to music pretty loud. You don’t mind if it just stays on?”

He got comfortable in the passenger seat, but to her it felt as if he took up more than his fair share of the space. “Your car, your rules. Can I ask how long you’ve been playing? When I was listening to your stuff, it’s not technical, but it’s got experience behind it.”

She was surprised at his knowledge, because he was right. “You know a lot about music?”

“A friend of mine, he’s into music so I grew up with him talking about it all the time.”

“My dad taught me when I was kid. There was a lot of tension in my house growing up and he thought it might help to have an outlet for my emotions.”

“Parents suck.”

There was a lot of heat and emotions behind those two words but Clarke left them alone. If she wasn’t willing to offer personal parts of her life, it wasn’t fair for her to pry into his. “Just let me know when to stop.”

He asked her about her writing which wasn’t exactly easy, but it was easier than everything else and she laughed when he called her songs moody. “I have a friend who says the same thing. ‘Write about birds or something’ is what she says.”

“One raven for sorrow, two for joy,” he said from the shifting shadows beside her.

“What?”

“She wants you to write about birds, but you want to be moody. If you see one raven it means sorrow is to come, two means joy.”

 “She’s going to hate that, especially since her name is Raven. Hold on let,” she double parked but she figured someone could get around her if someone else happened to be driving around before the crack of dawn. She fished around in the back of her car for her bag, grabbing her phone out of it.

Clarke pulled up her recording ap and pointedly didn’t look at the song which was about the man sitting beside her in the half dark. “Can you say that again?”

“Do you want my paraphrasing or the actual rhyme?”

“You know an actual nursery rhyme?” she asked, surprised and endeared by the fact.

“Are you going to record me?”

Bellamy nodded but his focus was on the phone and the bright screen in her hand. “Just look at me and it’ll sound more natural,” which was honestly the worst idea she’d ever had in her life because she vastly underestimated the power of Bellamy looking at her with muted lighting in a parked car.

Would it be bad form if she just grabbed him by his shirt and kissed him? He was technically her boss, so kissing him might cross more than one line. But damn, it had been a long time and she liked to think he’d be good at it.

And thank god she was recording this because she’d gotten very distracted by his mouth for a second there and missed half of what he’d said.

“I prefer, ‘One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth. Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self,” he added.

“I like that version too,” she turned off the recording.

He shifted in his seat and she liked the idea he wasn’t in a hurry to get out of her car and leave. “I get a byline on the song now, right?”

Clarke snorted because the idea of making any kind of money off her music was far in the future, if ever. “Sure, I’ll give you a quarter for every dollar I make off of it.”

“Awesome, I can’t wait to be rich.” She would have been happy to sit next to him and talk for hours but he mentioned his sister and Clarke knew he had a life to get back to. When he got out of the car it felt a little empty.

But hey, at least she hadn’t tried to kiss him.


End file.
